Home for Christmas
by Kavery12
Summary: All they want to do is go home for Christmas, but the galaxy seems to be conspiring against them...


I do not own Star Trek 2009 or Supernatural.

At the suggestion of Keyrani, we get to take a look at the _Enterprise_ and _Impala_ at Christmas time. Beware warm fuzzies and slight cheese ahead. Oh, and I'm not entirely sure about the weather in San Francisco...I'm Canadian, doncha know. I assume San Francisco doesn't get snow. If I got that wrong, I apologize!

* * *

><p>"What a mess," Jim Kirk muttered sourly, surveying the mud ball of a planet below him. Crossing his arms and scowling at the screen, he pounded his brain for a way, any way to get this cleared up before Christmas.<p>

It was December 22.

Agricultural colony M-24 had experienced a sudden, freak landslide that had wiped out over half the buildings in the planet's small city. _Enterprise_, despite being promised a Christmas on Earth, had been dispatched to help out.

Not that any member of the crew would have left the planet's colonists suffering…but it had been a long year and Kirk knew his people had been looking forward to some serious downtime. Chekov hadn't shut up about Russian home cooking for weeks now and Sulu's half-built, homemade presents were cropping up in the strangest places, set down when the pilot had been called away. Bones had even managed to be polite to his ex so that he could have Joanna for Boxing Day. Scotty had been drooling over the idea of his mother's haggis for far too long. Uhura was planning to "examine various Earth traditions regarding Christmas" with Spock (Kirk still hadn't wrangled an invite to the feast she was cooking).

Forty-eight hours to Christmas.

There was no way. He needed more people and the admiralty wasn't able to give them to Kirk. He'd even gotten an apology on the matter from Admiral Chandra and the man handed out apologies like he did starships – grudgingly.

Damn it.

Kirk was seriously considering telling Chandra he could be the one to break the news to Chekov. The kid's puppy eyes were going to be as sad as Sam Winchester's.

* * *

><p><em>Impala – December 22, 1100 hours<em>

"All right people, we're almost home!" Dean crowed with satisfaction. The _Impala_ was going to be home for Christmas and John had promised a dinner of epic proportions. Everyone from the bridge crew was coming and the house would be bursting at the seams. Dean was looking forward to fat turkey and eggnog. Somehow the _Impala_ had wrangled Earth-leave for Christmas and nothing was going to get in their way.

"Dean, I think you should take a look at this." Sam ventured in_ that_ tone of voice.

Not even Sammy. "No, Sam. No. Whatever it is, it's bad and no."

"_Enterprise_."

There was a pregnant pause.

"Son of a bitch. _Fine_. What?" Dean demanded ungraciously.

"They're supposed to be on Earth-leave for Christmas as well."

"So?"

"So they got called in to clean up that mess on M-24. And judging from the reports, they're massively undermanned. There should be at least another Constitution-class ship helping them but no one's available."

Dean groaned, scrunching his eyes shut.

The entire bridge crew was probably boring holes into his skull, the same warring emotions Dean was currently experiencing written all over their faces, Dean just knew it.

He cracked an eye open.

Yep.

Damn it.

* * *

><p><em>Enterprise – December 22, 1500 hours<em>

Kirk was hoping for a miracle but the creeping knowledge that they weren't going to be home for Christmas was stealing over the entire ship. The shuttle crews were working 24/7 and the security department hadn't come up for air, still digging out survivors, but Kirk's people were getting tired and they were heartsick. They were slowing down.

It was almost Christmas and they were going to spend the holiday picking mud out of their teeth.

Kirk kicked at a pile of the stuff, hearing it squish satisfyingly as he waved a shuttle back so it could dump its load of muck. Man, cleaning crap out of the shuttles was going to take weeks.

Bones was running a field hospital and almost out of supplies. There was no one to spare for a run to Starbase 3 and when asked for a medical courier, the star base had said "It's Christmas, no one's doing supply runs!"

Kirk had…re-educated them on that point. Vociferously.

The supplies were going to arrive in an hour, but that didn't change the fact that Bones and his department were strung out on caffeine, trying to stay ahead of disease.

"Captain!" The waterproof earpiece everyone was wearing buzzed in Kirk's ear.

"Go ahead, Uhura." Why was she so excited? Did Santa come early?

"Captain, the _Impala_'s here to help!"

* * *

><p>"Are you sick in the head?" Kirk demanded of his friend.<p>

Dean sighed. "Probably." He hoisted a shovel and waved his men forward. They pitched in with a will.

"Does the Admiralty know you're here?"

"Sam? Do the stuffed shirts know we're here?"

"Technically, we are obligated by regulation to provide assistance to any Starfleet ship in distress as we pass by. We were on our way home when I spotted an anomalous gas reading in the system and we would have been remiss if we didn't check it out. It turned out to be nothing. Then we realized you were also in the area and we could provide help!" Sam's smile was blinding.

"So no," Kirk supplied, trying to quash the warm, fuzzy feeling in his throat.

Sam shrugged. "Can't see why they'd mind. Let's see if we can't get this cleaned up by Christmas."

* * *

><p>"Chekov?" Castiel asked cautiously.<p>

The mud-man looked up from where he was fishing through a giant puddle of gray-brown water. "Ah, Castiel! Vhat are you doing here?"

"We came to provide assistance. Are you well?" He was beginning to question his friend's sanity.

Chekov obviously found what he was looking for, standing up with a crow of triumph and Castiel had to skip sideways to avoid the resulting splash of water. A very water-logged, stained doll of sorts, Castiel decided. "Wery good," Chekov nodded to himself. "I can tell Cassie dat I found de dolly." Tucking the doll into his dripping backpack, he waded out of the mess.

"What are you doing?" Castiel queried.

"Ah, dis is de orphanage." Chekov gestured at the collapsed heap of rocks, rubble and snapped siding. "De children were at school and were safe from mud. But a shipment of toys had just arriwed and was distributed before de slide hit and the little ones are missing their friends."

Castiel was puzzled. While the gesture was sweet, Chekov's expertise could undoubtedly be used elsewhere. Then he made the fatal mistake of looking over to the fence that kept civilians away from the disaster zone. A short row of bright, teary eyes blinked through the paling at him.

"Is there a list of the toys we're looking for?"

* * *

><p>Sulu was ready to tear his hair out. Yes, the <em>Enterprise<em>'s shuttles were all terrain landers. But that did not mean they could land in a swamp and yes, they needed a landing zone and no the _Enterprise_ would not be returning colony commander Tad Rewt to Earth so he could complain to the admirals.

Sulu was already calling the man a newt, tadpole and frog in his head.

"Look, ya pompous blowhard, get out of Sulu's face and let him fly the damned shuttles! Where's the computer system in this miserable mud pit?" When Rewt puffed up to protest, he met Lieutenant-Commander Ash's gimlet eye and quailed. "If you're gonna argue an' make our jobs harder, I should warn you now, I'm an impulsive man and the things I can do to your financial records with a PADD will have the Interplanetary Revenue Service on your ass like dirt on your backwards lettuce-farm of a planet."

Rewt caved and muttered something about important things to do somewhere else.

Sulu grinned. "Dude, are you nuts? Aren't you supposed to be on Earth?"

Ash shrugged. "Christmas would feel real frigging grinchy if I was sitting on my lazy butt while you dealt with that jackass. Still, you so owe me an entire night on the town for this."

* * *

><p>Scotty kicked the recalcitrant generator viciously with one steel-toed boot. It was drowned out with mud and more rain was starting to come down. No chance of drying the damned thing out and they needed it running. Starfleet would frown on <em>Enterprise<em> leaving behind the shuttle-core currently running Bones' field hospital. Not to mention that half an hour after Scotty left, the thing would blow up in the faces of the inept colonial engineers.

He wanted haggis, damn it. Sandwiches were manna from heaven, but haggis belonged to Christmas. And he had plans to convince Keenser that haggis was indeed edible.

He kicked the generator again.

"Havin' trouble?" a gruff voice asked. Scotty's head snapped up and he scrubbed a hand over his face.

"Aye, w'me eyes, apparently. Thought you lot were Earth-bound?"

Bobby plunked down his toolkit and pulled a panel off the generator. "Sam's a soft touch and it's contagious. Plus I figured you'd be good for a case of scotch after this."

* * *

><p>McCoy was short-handed. Horribly so. Usually at this point, he would have press-ganged a few security goons into helping but they were out rolling in mud, saving lives and adding to his patient-load.<p>

He was so busy that he didn't question the extra pair of hands that were assisting until a gruff female voice in his ear almost caused him to drop his laser scalpel.

"The hell are you doing here?" he demanded as Dr. Ellen Harvelle bellowed for her daughter to get her security team in the medical shelter ASAP.

"Heard you were in over your heads. Captain's bleeding heart wouldn't let him enjoy Christmas unless he was in the same boat. Pass me the IV."

He mechanically handed the equipment over and glanced around the tent. The _Impala_'s medical teams were already alleviating the load and the security personnel were sticking around to act as extra hands.

"Thanks."

"Don't mention it."

* * *

><p>Jo's men were spread out, one fresh <em>Impala<em> worker to each tired _Enterprise_ team in an attempt to spark new enthusiasm. Within half an hour, they had every colonist accounted for and were starting in on rudimentary restoration work.

Still, things weren't very…cheerful. She needed something motivational. Pausing to think and running a mud-slicked hand through her hair, she found herself humming Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer.

There's an idea, she said to herself and tapped her earpiece, connecting her to the _Enterprise_'s only dry officer (whose unending patience and organizational skills were being taxed by demanding refugees). "Uhura?"

"Jo! Thanks so much for dropping in!"

"Oh, no problem. Hey, I had an idea. Think you and Spock could help me out?"

* * *

><p><em>Twenty minutes later…<em>

"I still don't understand what you're trying to do," Uhura commented over the comm as Jo finished assembling the big PA system under its own protective shelter. A very confused Vulcan first officer was assisting her.

"I must concur with Uhura," Spock added, eyeing her like she was a wayward experiment gone awry.

"You'll see," Jo promised with a grin, plugging a memory chip into the player.

She selected a song and cranked the volume.

Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer blasted across the city in a cheery, encouraging jingle of sleigh bells, blissfully ignoring the rain. Jo's dirty face broke into a satisfied grin as Kirk jumped, Dean swore and Sam laughed.

"Fascinating," Spock commented after clapping a hand over the ear closest to the speaker. "You are using traditional Christmas carols to help motivate the crew."

"Yep. Best way to do that is by example. Start singing, Spock!" Jo plunged back into work, singing at the top of her lungs. Uhura was killing herself with laughter up on the _Enterprise_ as Spock carefully recited perfect lyrics in a deliberately flat tone of voice, an amused light in his eyes. "Come on!" Jo encouraged, elbowing her captain. With an exasperated eye-roll, he started humming as Sam cackled again, happily singing loudly and very tunelessly in his big baritone.

When she looked up an hour later, people weren't exactly jumping for joy, but the air of depression was gone and work was moving quickly to the tune of Frosty the Snowman.

Mission accomplished.

* * *

><p><em>December 23, 1700 hours<em>

Kirk leaned wearily on his shovel. He'd snatched four hours of sleep a while back and now could honestly say with a clear conscience that it was all right for the _Enterprise _to go home for Christmas. Starfleet would send a restoration team December 27th and quite frankly, Kirk had nothing else to offer these people. The colonists were warm, fed, on high ground in an insulated, powered complex with their own doctors monitoring the injured.

"All right people, let's pack it in. You all deserve promotions, pay raises and medals. Unfortunately, you're going to have to settle for Christmas at home. Sound good?" Kirk shouted, waving for the first group of personnel to move out. Crew members cheered as the transporter whirred alive and shuttles started returning to the _Enterprise_ for the last time.

"You're really leaving?" the colony leader demanded and Kirk controlled his temper with an extreme effort.

"Yes. We weren't supposed to be here to begin with and the _Impala_'s crew volunteered to help because they're friends of ours. They may even get into trouble for the unscheduled stop. You people have food, heat, light, safety and medicine. Hell, you even have a Christmas turkey and your family surrounding you. I'm taking my tired, soggy crew home for the same thing."

The leader (Newt, Kewt, Stewt, something like that) couldn't seem to marshal an argument as Dean headed over with purpose. "Last batch to beam up, Kirk. Let's go home."

* * *

><p><em>Enterprise – December 23, 2100 hours<em>

Christmas party on the _Enterprise_! The _Impala _crew members had beamed over and the festivities were in full swing. Everyone who didn't have an absolutely essential job was in the big rec room, chugging eggnog and eating goodies.

Up on the lonely bridge, Sam kicked the captain's chair in childish spite and hailed the _Enterprise _bridge, sure the bridge officer over there was in the same boat. Sure enough, a glum Chekov answered.

"How'd we draw the short stick?" Sam asked his counterpart mournfully over the screen. Chekov shrugged despondently.

"Apparently ve vere too cheerful on de planet below. And I got a kiss from de little girlie Cassie vhen Keptin Kirk could not." Sam frowned in sympathy.

They were the two sole crew members left alone on their respective bridges, responsible for keeping the ships pointed Earth-bound.

Before he could stop himself, Sam asked.

"Wanna play I-Spy?"

Chekov cheered up at the idea. "Are ve playing vith de keptins' rules?"

"Absolutely not. They stranded us up here without Christmas cookies, we'll make up our own rules."

Ten minutes into an epic game of I-Spy, one of Sam's long-range sensors chirped. "Pause," he called and pulled up the results. "Oh come _on_, we can't catch a break, can we?"

Chekov was doing some checking of his own. "Ewidently ve have pissed off some sort of windictiwe cosmic entity this year. Recalling de crew," he reported, slapping a command into the computer.

_Enterprise _went to red alert.

Kirk burst onto the bridge, a lopsided Santa hat dangling over one ear as crew members flooded the bridge around him. "Report, Mr. Chekov."

"Sir. Lone Klingon wessel on long-range sensors, rapidly closing distance between herself and de _Enterprise_. I hawe not raised shields yet to allow for transporter traffic between _Enterprise_ and de _Impala_."

"Very well. Mr. Sulu, as soon as the _Impala_ reports clear, raise shields. Uhura, broadcast a warning and see if they're just lost."

* * *

><p><em>Impala<em>

"Sammy, the next time you see an overwhelmed _Enterprise_, don't bother lying and telling me it'll be a quick, easy fix," Dean growled, staring down the war bird. "Does that idiot Klingon really intend to take on both of us?"

Evidently the idiot Klingon did.

Which in Dean's mind was proof that the Klingon Empire let meatheads captain her ships, because the battle was over in fifteen minutes.

_Enterprise_ and _Impala_ decided to pick up the pace. The way their luck was going if they dawdled any longer, the _Narada_ might show up again or something.

* * *

><p><em>Earth – December 24, 1000 hours<em>

"Requesting permission to enter space dock," Kirk requested in relief. Permission was granted, _Enterprise_ docked, crew dismissed.

The _Impala_ was parked right next door and the crews mingled together on the shuttle pad. Sulu was the first to check out, waving to everyone as he boarded the shuttle for 'Frisco. Spock and Uhura were next, followed by a very excited Scotty and a rather cautious Keenser. Kirk was watching, waiting for the next shuttle to leave as various crew members scowled at the shuttle departure boards.

"Vhat?" Chekov cried out in real distress and Kirk drifted over.

"Problem, Pavel?"

The tough little ensign was a homesick teenager again, chin trying not to wobble as his fist tightened on his small bag. "Moscow is experiencing de vorst snowstorm in tventy years. No vone is gettink in or out until de New Year. I don't know vhat to do."

Oh jeez. Kirk slung an arm around the kid's shoulders. "Chin up, kiddo. We won't leave you alone. As soon as it clears up, I'll get you to Russia." Chekov nodded miserably and Kirk squeezed hard.

A blistering blue stream of swearing rang out and Kirk flinched. "Shit," he cursed in response.

"Vhat is vrong vith Dr. McCoy?" Chekov asked.

"I imagine his wife's being a bitch again and wants Jojo to stick around for the perfect family Christmas, Boxing Day included," Kirk muttered.

"Ah, you can go help him," Chekov volunteered bravely.

"Damn straight and you're coming so don't try to run away," Kirk ordered. He picked up Bones and his very bad temper, corralled their luggage and sat down to think while Chekov called home and Bones stewed. Kirk hadn't been very foresighted when he had planned to spend Christmas aboard the _Enterprise,_ hiding in the bowels of his beloved ship. Chekov didn't know about Kirk's crummy family situation and hotels were awfully impersonal. But spending Christmas on the _Enterprise_ and trying to have fun while they were at it...he loved _Enterprise,_ really, he did, but it was hard to get the replicators to make turkey properly and they just didn't do mashed potatoes. Not to mention that they weren't exactly supposed to be on the _Enterprise_ over Christmas.

"Having difficulties?" Sam asked suddenly and Kirk almost fell off the bench in surprise.

"Ah, kind of." He sketched out the current issues.

"Oh!" Sam brightened right up. "No problem at all! You can just come home with us! Dad's expecting the entire bridge crew, three more won't be a problem!"

"The _entire_ bridge crew?" Kirk asked incredulously. The Winchester house wasn't that big. "Are you sure?"

"Oh yeah, Dad refinished the basement just for stuff like this. Come on, he's got a huge turkey, all kinds of food and pie."

"Pie?" Kirk loved pie.

"Pie," Dean confirmed, strolling up. "Dad's got a line on the best pie-maker in 'Frisco. Picking up more lost puppies, are we Sam?"

Sam shrugged. "The more the merrier, right?"

* * *

><p><em>Winchester House – December 24, 1300 hours<em>

The house was pleasantly full, Kirk realized. The finished basement made a huge difference. This past summer's barbeque had only worked because both crews had stayed outside in the yard. Now the house was much larger and the big rec room downstairs had a card table, foosball, thick carpet for sleeping bags and a roaring gas fireplace.

Upstairs, the dining room table groaned under take out, since John refused to cook again until tomorrow's dinner. The food disappeared quickly and soon the messy family gathered around for food split up into comfortable clumps.

Chekov had been swallowed by Ellen's warm motherly atmosphere, shielded from the rougher crew members while his homesickness still stung bitterly. He sat in a corner with the Harvelles, playing poker with Christmas cookies as chips and a huge mug of home-made hot chocolate.

Bones was busy jabbering away about who knows what with Bobby and John, hand occasionally drifting to the silent communicator at his belt. Joanna was supposed to call. Kirk really hoped she was allowed to or he'd do something violent before calling a few Starfleet lawyers he knew.

And Kirk sat in another corner with a lovely big beer mug of eggnog with Dean. For once, both captains were quiet in each other's company.

Dean was watching his brother play very violent Spoons with Castiel and Ash, happy as a clam. For the longest time, Sam had wanted to celebrate Christmas properly but with just the two of them, it always felt a little grandiose to get anything more than a quiet night with a bunch of classic Christmas films.

This year? Sam was up to his ears in Christmas tradition and loving every second of it. Ash and Castiel were still warming up to the idea of Christmas and Dean got the impression they hadn't exactly experienced the full Christmas rigmarole before. The Harvelles didn't look as haunted as they usually did around Christmas and neither did Bobby.

John was having as much fun as Sam, clearly king of hospitality and the kitchen, roaring with laughter and clapping people on the shoulders with all the might of a giant.

All of this was very good.

Holding out his eggnog, Dean waited.

Jim tapped their mugs together.

Merry Christmas.

* * *

><p><em>Epilogue – New Year's Day<em>

Jim was happily sleeping off a glorious night of booze and fun out on the town when the basement door blew open and a snowball exploded in his face.

Sitting up with a shout, he glared.

Then stared.

"Spock?"

The Vulcan was cheerfully and clinically examining the mess of sleeping bags for his next target. The white missile landed with a powdery pouf and Dean came up swinging. Blinking wildly, he rubbed wet out of his face and Uhura giggled, holding an insulated bag for Spock to dip into again.

"Snowball fight!" Jim roared and Uhura found herself fighting for control of the ammunition. As it turned out, she and Spock had brought an entire cooler of snow with them for this very purpose and there was a gloriously wet and short-lived war until John bellowed that breakfast was ready.

For some strange reason, Sulu and Scotty were sitting at the table, already stuffing themselves with bacon and eggs. It got even weirder when Jim spotted Admiral Pike chatting with John out on the front porch, both with a plate of syrup-smeared sausages and eggs. "The hell?" Jim asked in confusion, scratching at bed head. Sulu shrugged cheerfully, tearing into toast. Scotty grinned and handed Bobby a huge glass bottle of excellent scotch.

"Don't know about this laddie or the admiral," he mumbled around hash browns, "but me mither was naggin' sommat awful. And Keenser ate all the haggis, greedy little bugger. Ah escaped when Spock showed up on mah doorstep promising guid food if Ah helped him fill a cooler of snow."

Sam scraped wet hair out of his face and grabbed the orange juice pitcher, chugging back like a champ. Coming up for air, he set the pitcher down and lost the jug to Dean, who finished it off. "Who cares why they're here," Sam said happily. "We'll have a great afternoon."

"Actually," Spock interrupted for the first time, "we did come with a purpose."

Bones, Bobby and John had been sleeping on the main level. The doctor hadn't been seen yet, but there was a girlish shriek of "Daddy!" from McCoy's room and Jim stared at his first officer, who raised an eyebrow in response.

"You didn't."

"I did not what?" Spock asked in amusement.

"You got that witch to turn Jojo over to you. Spock, you are a miracle worker." A peculiar, unique expression of...something flashed across Spock's face, so quick Jim almost missed it. Still, Jim swore for years afterwards that that was the first time he really saw Spock smile.

Bones joined them a few minutes later, eight year old Jojo draped all over his shoulders with a gap-toothed grin. "Hey everyone!" she giggled and Bones looked like he was eighteen again.

Brunch spilled out onto the lawn for a huge football match in the afternoon while the girls commandeered the kitchen. They lost track of the score, but if you asked Jim, _Enterprise_ won by a landslide. Of course, the _Impala_ team had a differing opinion and Pike, the decreed referee, said it was a tie, having lost count in his many trips inside to get more cookies.

They ended up collapsing in the living room like a mess of puppies after ordering pizza for dinner, little Jojo giggling like mad as she and Uhura painted a snoring Dean's toenails purple and pink. Sam carefully draped long legs over his brother to hold him in place should Dean decide to wake up at an inopportune moment.

Jim was flopped on the couch, sandwiched between a dozing Bones and a curious Spock. They were due on the _Enterprise _tomorrow afternoon, heading back out into space but right now, in this moment, Jim and the people he cared about were happy.

Happy New Year.


End file.
